


Drabbles and Ficlets - Dragon Age Edition

by lemonsharks



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:13:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsharks/pseuds/lemonsharks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Complete stories in 100-500 words.  Featuring a number of custom Wardens, Hawkes, and Inquisitors, plus NPCs.</p><p>1 - Male Trevelyan, Simeon Trevelyan is good with children<br/>2 - Iron Bull/Fem Adaar, the qun did not mean this when they said get close to the inquisitor<br/>3 - Sera/Fem Lavellan, Ione Lavellan shares a book with her love<br/>4 - Dagna, in which the circle is annulled<br/>5 - Josephine, an afternoon off, and flowers for a certain scout<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Male Trevelyan, disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simeon is terrible with most magic but very good with children, due to the whole treating them like people thing he does.

The enchanters traded in information and Simeon had no time for it.

His charges know that something’s going on, know the other adults mutter and stop when they enter the room. He traded scut work for warnings, news, rumors.

“Don’t worry yourself into a faint, tadpole,” he told one boy a week past his eighth nameday. “We don’t know if it’s a Blight yet, and even so, Ferelden is very far away.”

The Libertarians wanted to run out and help; the Loyalists wanted the Libertarians to shut up, same as always.

 _He_ played hide-and-seek and marked the days and worried.


	2. Iron Bull/Fem Adaar - scars

The war stories come out after the Chargers wander off.

“We did bodyguarding, mostly, out of Nevarra. No so much bears and giants.”

The Iron Bull gestures from scar to scar. “Bear, bear, giant, great bear, bear. Small one. Angry, though.“

Adaar has pulled her hair down, thick and bright. She hasn’t told the story behind the marks on her jaw and right temple.

She cracks her neck and stretches, showing off long limbs. “Business end of a mama wyvern. I was sixteen and stupid.”

He’s pretty sure they didn’t mean this when they said get close to the Inquisitor.


	3. Sera/Fem Lavellan, peace

Lavellan asks her if she reads, the daft tit, but she’s got a book in her hands and Sera shrugs instead of snapping.

“Some,” she says, “Not the most important thing, yeah? But I can. How come?”

She shrugs right back, and her cheeks must be burning to get a blush up top the brown. It’s pretty on her, which is weird, elfy elf that she is.

“I found this in the basement. It’s a human book I read a few years back. I–it’s funny. I thought you’d like it.”

Sera takes the book, and their fingers touch. Just so.


	4. Dagna, thistle (misanthropy) & kingcup (innocence); flowers and prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagna, in which the Circle is annulled.

“I’m so sorry,” the man says, “but the Circle has been annulled.”

Dagna opens her mouth and closes it again, words unfamiliar and thick. 

“I wish it hadn’t been necessary. It was my home, but--”

“T’was beyond saving,” the man’s mage-companion says, “Is what Daylen here means to tell you. At least, that is what he believed at the time.”

“It was full of abominations and demons! _Beyond saving_!”

Dagna slinks off while the humans set to arguing, sure her parents miss her by now. She is seventeen years old, measured by the thrumming change in the white-hot blood of the Stone, and every dream she has ever had has just been set on _fire_. Her parents’ only child, she is expected to stay in their sight most times--it’s a small miracle she managed to sneak away long enough to meet these surfacers, and when she she gets back to the forge she knows she’s overstayed.

Her mother has a mouthful of admonitions for her, and nothing she can do but listen to them until she finishes. At last, she is allowed to return to her work--folding and quenching steel, chiseling fine engravings into finished works. No enchantment, which they call too dangerous, too like surfacer magic for their taste, when a _good keen blade will work just as well without_. 

They’re _stiff_. And _tired_ and _afraid_ and she bristles underneath the lessons she’s outgrown. Getting _out_ looks like this: the surfacer betrays Harrowmont for Bhelen, and there’s _chaos_ in the Commons and _no one_ in the Hall of Heroes. 

She takes nothing with her, because the only thing she wants is _out_. The doors are not barred, and the guards outside are only concerned with the news from _inside_. Small thing to trade the new king’s name for passage to the surface. 

The ceiling is very, _very_ high up, and Dagna’s breath catches in her lungs. 

“There’s more than one Circle,” she says. 

Now she just needed to _find_ one.


	5. Josephine, sweet pea (delicate pleasures); flowers and prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine enjoys an afternoon off

Josephine had rambled, sometimes, over the softly rolling hills just outside her family’s home in Rialto Bay. As the eldest her family afforded her more freedom--and more responsibility--than her siblings, a grace she she made use of in seeking her own peace. In winter she found groves of old orange trees, forgotten and heavy with sour fruit; in the earliest part of summer she found plush grass and wild roses, ringed with five pink petals in air that thrummed with assembled bees. Sometimes the bees would light on her dress, on her sweat-damp skin, and lick at the embroidered flowers or dampness of exertion on her arms. 

In Skyhold, Josephine had little time to herself--scarcely an hour without some crisis to massage back into calm. But when she found herself with half a day free and a high sun, she wrapped herself in a shawl and leaves through the front gate, with the message that she planned to explore down the mountain and to look for her if she did not return before dusk. 

Her soft shoes were not meant for hiking, but they allowed her a grip on the scant mountain path that a pair of thicker soles would not. She scrabbled after a game trail, sure it would open up in time and glad her instincts have not left her in so many years indoors. 

She found purple snowdrops and orange fire lilies sprouting from a patch of very late snow, their scent rich and heady. She found her arms and neck damp, and she strained to catch the scent of the sea--too far off to reach them here, but an instinct one does not shake from scant months inland. She removed her shawl, and pulled a small knife from her belt, and cut a thick bouquet with long stems and no few buds. Wrapping the flowers in cloth, she thought, _They will bloom for days in a little sugar water_. 

A shame they would make some of the number of guests she must entertain sneeze.

Josephine returned to Skyhold, and had a servant deliver the flowers to Scout Harding, who she suspected would appreciate them. 


End file.
